


The Road to Mourning

by Lise



Category: Doctrine of Labyrinths - Sarah Monette
Genre: (minor divergence but still), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, angst with a sort of okay ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 21:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: On the way to the Bastion to rescue Mildmay, Malkar finds ways to keep Felix motivated.





	The Road to Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this idea came from the place most of my Doctrine of Labyrinths ideas come from, which is to say [Lena](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com), enabler and plot-bunny sharer extraordinaire. I just ran with it, and put my "I love sadness" hands all over it. What can I say.
> 
> With gratitude to my [incredibly patient beta](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com). 
> 
> If you're interested, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com), where I spend a lot of time crying over dysfunctional fictional characters.

_Strych,_ Mildmay had howled, like it was the last word he would ever say. _Strych,_ over and over and I knew what he meant, knew what _it_ meant. The man I knew as Malkar Gennadion was also Brinvillier Strych, creature of a hundred Lower City nightmares, and scarcely fewer in the Mirador itself. 

And he had my little brother. 

It took damnably long to plan how we were going to infiltrate the Bastion at all. Mehitabel’s cold anger at me burned because I knew she was right, knew exactly how badly I had - not to put too fine a point on it - _fucked up_. I had sent Mildmay - _forced_ Mildmay - to kill Vey Coruscant. And sent him directly into Malkar’s arms.

And now Malkar held him, and I knew all too well what it was to be held by Malkar. I was a coward; I flinched from considering that thought too closely. I could not bear to. And it was worse for knowing that it wasn’t Mildmay he wanted, but me; he was only using Mildmay as a tool to that end. 

As I had used Mildmay as a tool for my own. 

I pushed that thought out of my mind and told myself that I could dwell on my guilt once Mildmay was free. Which he would be, and soon. (Not soon enough.)

* * *

I did not mistake Malkar’s second sending for a dream.

I could almost feel the ticking of Nemesis in my body; I could feel the difference, now, of Malkar’s magic seeping into my dream like oil into water. 

“You’re taking your time, aren’t you,” Malkar said. “Perhaps you don’t care so much about your brother as I thought.” My eyes flickered between him and Mildmay, his hair loose and matted in places, on his knees on the floor. I took a step toward him and he raised his head, but though he stared at me there was no recognition in his eyes. Eye; I could only see one, the other blackened and swollen shut. 

“He isn’t particularly obedient,” Malkar said. “Not like _you,_ darling. You really didn’t train him at all.” 

A shudder ran all the way down my spine. _He is my brother, not my slave,_ I wanted to say, but the obligation d’âme would have made me a liar, and Malkar always knew when I was lying. 

“Nothing to say?” Malkar’s smile mocked me. “I suppose perhaps you didn’t catch him young enough. Ah well. He still has his uses, doesn’t he?” 

He sauntered over to a table and picked up a whip off of it, weighing it in his hand. I recognized a nun’s scourge, and I saw Mildmay twitch, his shoulders hunching like an animal at bay. 

“Stop,” I said. It came out weak, pitiful, pathetic as it ever had. Malkar’s smile was perfectly cruel, black eyes fixed on mine as he raised the lash and brought it down. 

Mildmay didn’t cry out. I did, for him. 

“Come to me, dearest,” Malkar said. “And for god’s sake, stop _dawdling._ ”

He raised the lash again. Again. Again, and I closed my eyes because I could not bear to watch, even as I knew I should, must, deserved to have to. I knew how it would feel. The pain that only built the longer it went on.

Unlike me, Mildmay did not scream. I almost wished that he would.

I woke up and stumbled outside, inhaling desperate gulps of clean air. I could still hear the titan clock’s _tick-tick-tick_ in my head, rhythmic and terrible.

Mehitabel joined me a few minutes later. I didn’t know if she had been awake already or if I had woken her, and did not ask. 

“Did something happen?” She asked.

“Another sending from Malkar,” I said. My voice sounded strange. “Apparently he does not feel we are moving quickly enough.”

“Oh?” Mehitabel said after a pause I thought might be her gathering herself. I pressed my hands against my eyes. 

“Do you need more detail than that, Tabby?”

“No,” she said. “I guess I don’t. Did you learn anything useful?” 

Mildmay’s blank and feral stare. The crack of Malkar’s whip. _He isn’t particularly obedient._ “No,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper. “Nothing more.” I could feel Mehitabel looking at me and did not turn to see the expression on her face. I might deserve her scorn and her hatred, but that didn’t mean I wanted to look at it. 

“Felix, come inside,” she said. I shook my head, wordless, and heard her sigh. “Are you really going to stand out here for the rest of the night?” 

“If I were, I daresay that would be up to me,” I said airily, knowing the tone would irritate her and hoping it would be enough to make her leave. I did not want company, and I certainly didn’t want to sleep. 

“Suit yourself,” Mehitabel said finally, coldly. “Indulge your desire for theatrics rather than conserving your energy for when Mildmay needs you.”

I could not quite prevent my flinch. She knew where to strike, though I doubted she knew that I could hear her words, _your desire for theatrics,_ in another voice that cut deeper than hers. I composed myself, turned, and smiled at her. 

“Well _done,_ Tabby,” I said. “What a terribly _cutting_ thing to say. You’re learning.”

She didn’t answer, and I swept past her without letting my expression crack.

But I did not go back to sleep. It wasn’t particularly difficult to stay awake; all I had to do was think of Mildmay’s eye staring at me, unseeing, and the defensive hunch of his shoulders bracing for pain.

* * *

I heard Malkar’s voice before I saw him. 

“Say hello, darling. Don’t you think your brother wants to hear you?” 

I wasn’t sure if he meant me or Mildmay. At least I wasn’t until I saw him, and saw Mildmay. He looked worse, though he was unbound this time, his back to a wall. He turned his head back and forth from me to Malkar. 

“He’s a ferocious beast, isn’t he,” Malkar said, and I could hear his amusement plainly. “He tried to bite me.” He turned, then, to face me. “Tell me where you are, darling.” 

“Coming for you,” I said, my voice thick. Mildmay’s head whipped around toward me and Malkar laughed.

“Yes, Mildmay,” he said, almost crooned. “That’s Felix. Have you anything to say to him?” Malkar smiled at me. “He can’t see you. Or anything, for the moment. He handles it better than you did.” 

I heard myself make a very faint noise and my stomach clenched and twisted. Mildmay snarled, a wordless, furious sound. 

“Ah, yes,” Malkar said. “He can’t speak, either. Not that he was making particularly scintillating conversation to begin with.” He turned back toward Mildmay and took a step toward him. “It’s a good thing I don’t need him to _talk._ ” 

Mildmay tensed and pressed back against the wall. I lurched forward to grab Malkar’s arm and he backhanded me across the face. I cried out and Mildmay lunged, throwing himself blindly at Malkar. 

Halfway through the motion, he froze. Malkar didn’t even glance at me as I straightened, pressing trembling fingers to my bleeding mouth. 

“It’s pitiful, really,” Malkar said. “He just doesn’t _learn._ Poor, dumb, animal.” His voice hardened. “It’s time to come to heel, Felix. You know where you belong.” He moved closer to Mildmay, and I could see my brother quivering - not with fear, I realized. Or not just fear. Struggling against Malkar’s magic. Trying to fight him. “And until you stand before me...I suppose I will just have to make do.” 

“Malkar,” I started to say, hardly knowing what plea I thought I could make, but the sending shattered and I woke. My mouth hurt where Malkar had struck me, as if to underscore the reality of what I had seen. 

I put my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my weeping.

* * *

I was the first to rise in the morning, hurrying the others out. I was exhausted as though I hadn’t slept at all, but there was a deeper energy animating me - desperation, fear. Both stronger than even my self-loathing.

I did not speak much, though. My thoughts were otherwise occupied, and I was too aware of time passing. Of what tortures Mildmay might be suffering, every moment another moment in which he was suffering. My vivid imagination, fueled by experience, frayed my nerves to the breaking point. 

_It’s time to come to heel, Felix. And until you stand before me…_

The Bastion grew larger too slowly. As another night fell and we drew to a halt for the night, I stared at it and wanted to scream. 

“Maybe we should keep going,” I said. 

“No,” Mehitabel said, her voice hard, even before Mavortian opened his mouth. I turned on her. 

“Tabby–”

“I said, no,” she said. “Not only is it dangerous traveling after dark, we’d arrive exhausted and the timing would be wrong.” 

I wanted to snap and took a deep breath so I did not. “Mildmay–”

“I know,” Mehitabel said harshly. “Don’t _you_ invoke Mildmay to me, Felix. We both know why we’re here. And why he’s there.” I could have flinched. _You don’t have to see him suffering,_ I wanted to say, but the words died on my tongue. 

I turned on my heel and walked away from all three of them. Almost, I thought about going on alone, but even I knew that would be the height of foolishness. I could not hope to sneak into the Bastion and free Mildmay on my own, without Mehitabel’s knowledge and network of contacts.

I paced back and forth , sleepless, for a long while, but eventually I gave in. Or perhaps I wanted to give in, because no matter how much I feared it, it was the only way I had to know what was going on. 

I slept. It was only ordinary dreams to begin with - ordinary nightmares: the labyrinth with its monster, dark water, wandering through the Mirador looking for something I couldn’t remember. I tumbled between one and the next like a leaf buffeted by the wind.

When I felt that familiar pull, I didn’t fight it. I let myself be drawn in even as dread made my throat close. 

Nemesis ticked overhead. Malkar stood in front of me, and my heart fluttered. It was an effort to hold my ground. 

“Darling,” Malkar said, his smile cold and cruel; the smile that made my knees go weak. “Why am I still waiting for you?” 

_Mildmay,_ I thought. _Where is Mildmay,_ but I wasn’t going to say it. He was waiting for me to ask, and in some small defiance I would not. He would tell me. He would want me to know what he was doing to him. “Travel _does_ take time, _darling,_ ” I said, another spark of defiance followed immediately by terror. 

“Watch your tongue,” Malkar said. “I don’t appreciate excuses, Felix.”

My mouth went dry and I worked moisture back into it. “Not an excuse.”

Malkar’s eyes half closed and he regarded me. The fear deepened, filling my stomach with ice. “Ask me,” he said. “I know you want to.”

So much for holding my tongue. “Where is Mildmay,” I said, and heard my voice shake, suddenly very much afraid of the answer.

Malkar’s eyes glittered, and there was a horrible triumph that had some part of me already screaming, urging me to run, _run_. “You must remember that there are consequences for disappointing me.”

He stepped aside. On the floor, sprawled limp and unmoving, was Mildmay. 

“I would say it was a pity,” Malkar said, “but really, he was no kind of replacement for you.”

 _Was._ No. 

Malkar smiled at me, but I could not look away from Mildmay. So still. I could see one eye, open and staring, the bright green clouded. I lurched forward a step, but only a step. This wasn’t a sending, I told myself, just an ordinary nightmare, but I could not make myself believe it.

“You,” I said - stammered. “ _You_ –”

“Really, Felix,” Malkar said. “If you can’t speak clearly, don’t speak at all.”

Something black and terrible was rising in me. “ _I’ll kill you,_ ” I snarled. “I am coming for you and I will–” Too late. Oh, _Mildmay._

“Don’t make such a melodrama of it, darling,” Malkar drawled. “What is one fewer Lower City rat?”

I lunged at him with a howl like a wild animal only to be flung out of the sending, and woke screaming. I reached for the bond of the obligation d’âme, desperately hoping, wanting to believe–

Nothing. It was gone. _Mildmay_ was gone.

My door burst open and it was Mehitabel, her face white. “Felix, what in God’s name–”

“Mildmay,” I said. “He’s - Malkar, he–” I couldn’t say it. My fault. This was my fault, my brother was _dead_ and I had as good as killed him. My loyal, steadfast brother, who had dragged me across half a continent when I was mad, chasing a dream. Who had bound himself to me in a way that gave me power over him, a power I had never done anything but abuse.

“ _Felix,_ ” Mehitabel said, and I had the impression it wasn’t the first time. “What happened?” 

“He’s dead,” I croaked. “Malkar killed him.”

I heard her take a sharp breath from what seemed like very far away. I couldn’t think. I felt _sick._ I kept seeing Mildmay’s body, his staring green eye, _one fewer Lower City rat._ Madness, an all-consuming grief, was pressing at my back, about to roll over my head like the black waters of the Sim.

“I am going to kill him,” I said. “I will find Malkar and I will _destroy_ him–”

“Felix,” Mehitabel said, though her voice sounded shaky. “Don’t do anything stupid.” I heard Mavortian in the hallway: “what’s going on?” 

“ _He killed my brother!_ ” I howled, and I knew I was drawing attention to us but I _could not care._ Mildmay was dead and it was my fault and the only thing I could do–

I had never been able to fight Malkar. But maybe I just hadn’t had a good enough reason.

“I _know_ ,” Mehitabel hissed. “You think I don’t - but if you go charging into the Bastion looking for a fight…”

I took a heaving breath and said, “do you really think you could stop me, Tabby?” My voice sounded strange. Ugly. Scarcely like my own. We stared at each other, and I didn’t know, truly didn’t know, what I would do if she did try to stand in my way.

She didn’t flinch. She’d always been brave. “Wait until tomorrow,” she said, finally. “Just that long.” 

_Wait,_ I wanted to snarl. _Waiting is what allowed this to happen, what condemned him,_ but there was no blaming her for that, for anything. I knew where the fault for Mildmay’s fate lay, and it wasn’t with Mehitabel or Mavortian or Bernard. The animal thing in my chest surged, clawing like it would tear loose. 

“Fine,” I made myself say. “Tomorrow.”

Mehitabel relaxed very slightly, some of the hardness bleeding out of her face and leaving visible the loss, the grief. “Felix,” she said, but I could not. 

“Don’t,” I said, short and hard, and shut the door in her face. Then I stood there for a moment, my eyes closed. _There are consequences for disappointing me._

My fault. And Malkar’s. The two of us like two sides of a knife that had skewered Mildmay through the heart. 

Malkar wanted me? Fine. He could have me. 

The Bastion was another day and a half’s journey away. The plan we’d worked out had required more than one person - but that plan had been for a rescue. 

I left most of what I’d brought with me behind. I didn’t really expect to be coming back. 

* * *

After I had gone some way I realized two things: first, that Mehitabel must have been more shattered than she had allowed me to see, that I’d been able to slip away at all, and second, that though I couldn’t exactly get _lost_ (I only had to follow the road toward the Bastion’s dark shadow), there were other risks for someone on the road alone. 

I decided I didn’t care. The grief that threatened to drown me had - not ebbed, but transformed, like limbs going numb in cold water. _Numb._ That was the word I was looking for. A part of me wanted the rage back. The shrieking, wild, _thing_ that wanted to tear out Malkar’s throat.

But I was fairly certain it would come back, and it would be better not to burn myself out before reaching my goal. 

I did not let myself sleep, even as my interrupted rest began to catch up with me. Not only did I not want to risk losing the lead I had on my erstwhile companions, but I also did not want to know what Malkar might show me. There was nothing I needed to know, besides. I knew where he was. I knew what I was going to do. 

Or perhaps it wasn’t a sending from Malkar I feared seeing in my dreams, but rather what my own nightmares might offer up in their turn. 

The Bastion grew in front of me. I looked back, but only once. 

I was propelled onward by the burning in my chest and the memory of Mildmay’s broken body; the stabbing pain of my guilt and the certainty of my own fault. That fault could not be expiated, now, could never be undone, but at least I could destroy Malkar - or Strych, or Beaumont Livy, or whatever other names he had called himself over who knew how many years. 

It had occurred to me that I might well be going to my own destruction, but I met that possibility with indifference. The knowledge that I might be risking the Mirador itself if I could not overpower Malkar was sharper, but even that seemed dulled, far away. 

When I reached my destination and dismounted, sending the horse away with a slap to its rump, I did not quite call lightning from the sky to announce my presence. I did walk to the first person in uniform I saw. 

I expected to be afraid, but the fear didn’t come. 

“My name is Felix Harrowgate,” I said. “I am here to see Malkar Gennadion. He will be expecting me.”

* * *

They took my rings. That was an obstacle, but Malkar would need to return them to me if he wanted to use me as he had before. My hands were shackled but I was not hurt; they had a vested interest, after all, in keeping me intact. Malkar’s promise of breaking the Mirador would let Kekropia swallow Marathat. 

I was locked in a dimly lit room just short of a cell, alone and still bound. My shackles chafed. I sat and watched the door, waiting.

My traveling companions would likely be awake by now, and aware of my absence. I wondered if they would follow. Mavortian would want to. Mehitabel might be sensible enough to recognize that it was unwise, and pointless. Bernard might lean toward obedience, or toward protecting his master. Either way, it didn’t much matter. However this ended, I didn’t expect it would take very long. 

The door opened, and I stood. 

“Felix,” Malkar said, smiling. “So you do still come when you’re called.”

“For Mildmay,” I said. “Not you.” _There_ was the dread. Like my fear of water, fear of Malkar ran in my blood, and was as much a part of me. But it would not, I told myself, matter. 

“And yet you were the one who sent him to me.” I flinched, and Malkar’s smile widened. “Was this meant to be your pathetic attempt at revenge, darling? Or is this surrender?” He stepped forward and I drew back, deeper into the shadows, and a moment later hated myself for not standing my ground. Was I really so weak as that?

( _Yes. Always._ )

Malkar’s smile fell. “Come, Felix,” he said, voice more curt. “It is past time you remembered your place. This little rebellion of yours has gone on long enough.”

He turned his back with the surety I would follow, and the confidence that I was no danger. He was right about both, of course. ( _For now,_ I told myself. _For now._ ) He led me through the corridors and down, down, to a locked door he opened with a turn of a key. 

Stepping inside, my blood went cold and my stomach twisted with horrid memory. The room was an exact replica of the Warrens, and involuntarily I remembered the chains, Malkar’s weight over me and the agony as he bent my magic to his will. I lurched back involuntarily only to force myself to still. This was good, I thought frantically. It was just the two of us, alone, in a locked room where, knowing Malkar, few came. This was an opportunity.

Malkar’s gaze was knowing, the tilt at the corner of his mouth cruel. He reached past me and closed the door with a heavy, final, sound.

He gripped my wrists just above the shackles, and this time I didn’t pull away. “There’s no need for those, is there?” He said, and I held very still as he unlocked them and let them fall to the floor. He took out my rings, then, holding one up. 

“Shall I return these to you?” He asked. “Give you the chance to attack me, perhaps? To try your will against mine?”

I swallowed hard. I’d broken the obligation d’sang, but Malkar had not been there, then. Not directly striving against me. My thoughts of revenge shriveled and died.

_I’m sorry, Mildmay. I’m so sorry._

Still, I lifted my chin and said, “if you believe you have nothing to fear from me, why not?” 

Malkar laughed and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. “I know you, Felix,” he said, voice lowering to a purr. “I _made_ you. Have you forgotten?”

“No,” I said, my voice thick with hatred and fear. “How could I?”

He took my left hand, then my right, sliding my rings back on my fingers, one by one. I waited, nearly holding my breath, willing myself to be ready to act, to be ready to _strike. Think of your brother. Think of him suffering, dying._

Malkar released my hands and stepped back, turning away to walk toward the circle inscribed on the floor. “Quite daring of you, darling,” he said. “Dashing in headlong. I expected something...subtler.” 

“Perhaps you don’t know me so well as you thought,” I said. My hands came up and I flung lightning at his face. 

He batted it away like it was nothing, but I attacked again. Wildly, and without finesse, and I had never been able to defeat him but I tried, oh, I tried. The rage had returned, flaring up in me like a flame, and I let it fuel me. My rings flashed, the sole clear thought in my mind of his destruction, this man, this _fiend_ who had owned me and used me and now killed the dearest person to me in the world.

And I could not beat him. I was going, I thought with terrible certainty, to lose.

“Felix, darling,” Malkar said, his voice slicing into me like a knife. “Stop making such a _scene._ We both know you won’t win, and this fit of yours is getting tiresome. All this over a gutter rat?”

My inhale sounded like a sob. “He was a better man than you,” I said, and threw lightning at him again. This time he redirected it back at me to strike the floor just before my feet, advancing toward me.

“You _loved_ him, didn’t you,” Malkar said. “Your vicious little beast. I can’t see why. He had very little to recommend him. Not even your beauty, with that scar.”

The snarl that boiled out of me didn’t sound human. I threw myself at him in a futile physical attack, and he caught me easily, his hands squeezing my wrists until they hurt.

“I suppose he was rather useful in getting you here, however,” he said. “You never were very clever. And emotion made you stupid.” He yanked me closer toward him. I couldn’t breathe. “And so very easily manipulated.” He let go my wrists and slid his fingers into my hair and I was frozen, screaming at myself to move, _move_ –

Even after all this, I couldn’t fight him. 

“If you behave,” he said, “I’ll let you say goodbye to your new pet before you watch me kill him.”

Oh. _Oh._

Whatever sound I made, whatever the look on my face was, it made Malkar laugh. “My,” he said. “You _did_ get attached, didn’t you?”

_Alive. He’s alive, Mildmay’s alive, he’s here–_

“You lied,” I said, my voice thin and weak. 

“Yes, Felix,” Malkar said, “I lied.” He pulled me closer and I could feel his magic pressing against me as much as his body did. I swayed, my heart beating very rapidly. Mildmay was alive. I had to find him, had to…

“Kiss me,” Malkar said, his voice cracking against me like a whip. “Remind me what you’re good for.” 

I was shaking, very slightly. “Yes, Malkar,” I whispered, and bent my head down to meet him. 

* * *

My knees were weak, unsteady. Malkar’s rubies were heavy in my pocket and I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to find Mildmay and that Mildmay was somewhere here, that I had no idea how I was going to get him away from here but at the very least I wasn’t going to leave him alone. 

The fact that Malkar was dead, that I had killed him, was a distant thing in the back of my mind that did not feel entirely real. Of no real weight next to my desperation to find my brother, here, alive (but how long would he be alive? And I was on my own, and useless, without any plan of escape, and I didn’t know when Mehitabel and Mavortian would be here, or if they would follow me at all.).

 _You never were very clever._ Even now, I might have doomed us both. 

But I would not abandon my little brother. 

I did not have the obligation d’âme to guide me, and had no idea where I was going. I might have been running in circles but I kept going anyway with some absurd notion that if I ran far enough for long enough I might find him. _You could get lost in a barrel,_ I could almost hear Mildmay say. I could be going in circles. The Bastion’s soldiers might find me first, and I did not know what they would do with me then.

I stopped, trying to catch my breath. My heart banged against my ribs, despair looming. 

I heard something up ahead. A stirring in the dark beyond where my witchlights reached. 

“Hello?” I called tentatively, but to no answer. I moved forward and saw a heavy door with a small window covered by bars. My heart picked up its pace and I peered through, trying to see, and could just make out what looked like a human form curled up in one corner inside. 

_It might not be him,_ I told himself, even as my stomach plunged for how still the body seemed. (But I had heard movement, hadn’t I?) _It could be someone else, some other prisoner,_ but I was already testing the door. It was locked, of course, but while I had no skill with picking locks I could force it with magic. 

It smelled. Like blood, and piss, and mikkary, and I almost flinched back and retreated but forced myself forward. “Hello?” I said again, my voice high and breathless. “Are you…” I swallowed hard. “Mildmay?” 

My witchlights illuminated the corner, casting green light on hair matted and filthy, the face that turned toward me bloody and bruised, one eye swollen nearly closed. I stopped breathing, my heart lurching with a mixture of dismay and relief. It was him; it was my brother, alive, looking at me, and he looked - _horrible_ but he was still breathing, and the gratitude was so dizzying that I almost buckled. “Powers,” I said. “You’re _alive,_ you’re really–” I wanted to weep from sheer _relief._

Mildmay moved slowly, dragging himself up from his huddle on the floor, bracing one hand on the wall and working his way toward standing with what looked like excruciating effort. I started forward, reaching out. “Let me help you,” I said, the words almost tripping over each other. “You’re hurt–” _Obviously, darling._

I realized my mistake just a fraction of a second before Mildmay lunged - a clumsy attack that would probably have been useless against anyone more prepared than I. He knocked me back off my feet and flat on the floor, his hands wrapping around my throat, snarling, feral. His fingers dug in and I grabbed for his wrists but couldn’t move them, and there was a part of me that whispered as I wheezed for breath that I deserved this, his rage. 

A spark flickered in his eyes and he let go like I had burned him, shoving me down and scrambling away, his eyes flickering from me to the door. I coughed. “Mildmay,” I said, my voice strained. “It’s me.”

Illuminated by witchlight, the hard planes of his face cast shadows so I could only just see his eye glinting. I could hear him breathing, loud and harsh.

If I could have killed Malkar again, I thought then that I would have.

“Strych,” he said. One syllable, his voice grating like he’d forgotten how to speak.

“He’s dead,” I said. My voice shook, and I pushed myself up slowly only to stop when Mildmay tensed. “I...I killed him.” I had. And yet still I half wanted to look over my shoulder, expecting that he would be there again, laughing at me for presuming I could escape. Mildmay looked like he might be thinking the same thing.

“You sure,” he said. The way he talked it was like every word was a struggle. My chest ached. 

“I’m sure,” I said. “He’s - gone. I swear.” 

Mildmay still watched me with the wariness of a wild animal, expecting me to hurt him. I couldn’t tell if he recognized me or not. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering how long it would be until Malkar’s remains were discovered.

“Felix?” Mildmay said. I jerked around to look back at him and almost sobbed with relief.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly. “It’s me. I’m–” _sorry_ caught in my throat. “I’m here.”

He held very still, looking at me like he wasn’t sure what his next move ought to be. I waited, my eyes burning, almost holding my breath. “I want to get you out of here,” I said finally, though of course I had no idea how I was going to do that. “I’m not...I’m not going to hurt you.” _Liar._ But I didn’t _want_ to. _That’s never been good enough._

Some of the wildness faded from Mildmay’s eyes. Some of the wariness. Now he just looked - hurt, wounded, deeper than skin, but he inched back toward me. I didn’t move, hardly daring to twitch. My throat hurt where his fingers had dug in. The way he looked at me was like half of him expected me to hurt him and half expected me to vanish, and he stopped just out of reach. It felt as though there was something I needed to do, or ought to be doing, but I didn’t know what it was and just stayed frozen and afraid to do the wrong thing and end up hurting Mildmay more than I already had. 

“It’s really you,” Mildmay said, his voice a slurring rasp, and even if he sounded awful I could have wept. 

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, it’s really me. Mildmay–” 

I didn’t know what to say next, though. Or didn’t know how to say what I needed to say, or there was too much of everything to get it out. The rest of the wariness went out of Mildmay’s eyes and he slumped, and I moved without thinking to keep him from falling face-first on the floor. He was shivering - cold? Or just in pain? I squeezed my eyes closed.

“I thought you were dead,” I said. Mildmay didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t, or didn’t want to; maybe he hated me now. It didn’t matter. Somehow I had to get us both away from here. “We need to go,” I said. “Can you...if I help you, can you stand?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then let’s…” But even if he could stand, I had no idea where we would go. The odds were as good that I would lead us to a guard, or deeper into the Bastion’s dungeons, than to anything close to freedom. And yet Mildmay was looking at me, listening to me like I might have answers, like he actually expected me to _help,_ after I had sent him here in the first place. 

I could not remember ever having hated myself quite this much. I closed my eyes. “I don’t suppose you know a way out of here, do you?” 

I could hear footsteps rapidly approaching and wanted to scream. “Get back,” I said to Mildmay, and lurched to my feet, turning to stand and face the door, determined to at least _try_ to defend him as best as I could. “And if you get the chance…”

What? What could he do? Run? Despair rose up in my chest, strangling me.

Closer. “Mildmay,” I said, my throat closing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

The footsteps stopped. Then: “Felix? Is that you?” 

Mehitabel. It was _Mehitabel._ Never - _never -_ had I been so relieved to hear someone’s voice. “Yes,” I said, inches from weeping. “Yes, it’s me. And I’m not - I’m not alone.” I almost choked on the words. “Mildmay’s here. He’s alive.”

* * *

Mildmay didn’t speak on the journey back. He was aware - though he spent a great deal of time either asleep or unconscious. I couldn’t tell if his silence was a choice or because he didn’t feel capable of speaking just now. At least I knew he still had the ability. Malkar hadn’t cut out his tongue. 

To be honest, I did not try very hard. I hovered, useless, but otherwise…

I was a coward. I did not want to face Mildmay’s anger, however justified it was. Or worse: I did not want to face his resignation, his acceptance of what I had wrought on him.

In the night, not sleeping, the thought occurred to me: somehow, Malkar had broken the obligation d’ame. If Mildmay wanted to walk away, he could. 

He would probably be right to do so.

That thought circled in my head, around and around, gnawing at me - or perhaps I was the one gnawing at it, a piece of gristle stuck in my teeth. I did not say anything, though, keeping my thoughts to myself. Later, I told myself. When Mildmay was a little recovered - I would bring it to him then. If it had not occurred to him yet, it would, and I…

I did not want to offer. But I owed him. I could hardly keep him a slave, pretending nothing had changed. 

We returned to the Mirador; though before we did I worked up a mockery of the obligation d’âme - enough that it would fool anyone who looked for it, to keep Mildmay safe. Almost immediately, Mildmay retreated into his room and closed the door, and I did not try to stop him. 

The first night I managed to sleep at all I dreamed of watching Malkar make Mildmay cut his own throat as I stood helpless and unmoving. I rose and almost let myself into Mildmay’s room to see for myself that he was still alive, but stopped myself; I didn’t want to wake him. 

It took a long time for my heart to stop pounding. 

Gideon woke when I got back in bed, though barely. :Felix?:

“It’s all right,” I said. I heard him sigh, and suspected he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t press. I almost wanted to say it - _I think Mildmay is going to leave -_ but I held my tongue. 

* * *

We did not talk about what had happened. Mildmay didn’t accuse, didn’t shout, didn’t recriminate. I wished that he would, but I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t. Even now, Mildmay was loyal. 

Loyal, and suffering. I could see the latter clearly, but I did not know what to do about it. Did not know how to _help._ That had not ever been my strong point; I was honest enough with myself to know that I was hardly a comforting presence. In this case perhaps least of all. Always quiet, Mildmay now spoke hardly at all. He had retreated into himself, withdrawn and miserable. His physical injuries healed, but otherwise…

Maybe, I thought, the problem was with setting. Or with his company, a reminder of what he’d gone through. 

I worked my courage up, and asked Mildmay if I could speak with him. The startled, wary, look he gave me stung, but I tried to pretend it did not. 

“Sure,” he said. “About what?” 

“Mildmay–” I swallowed hard. “I know that...you aren’t happy here.” I didn’t dare to look at him. “And...and it seems that the obligation d’âme is...broken. I can understand that...that there are many reasons you might wish…” I was making a muddle of this. _Keep it simple._ “If you’d like to leave, I would of course offer financial support.” 

Silence. I worked up the nerve to look at Mildmay and found him staring at me blankly like he didn’t understand what I had said. 

“What,” he said finally. 

Maybe he didn’t believe me? Or had he not known… “You know that the binding is gone, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “Strych.” 

“So…” I shifted. “So you’re free to go.” 

“D’you want me to?” Mildmay said, still staring at me. 

“That’s not the point,” I said, trying to hedge so I didn’t say _no, I don’t, please don’t leave._

“Do you want me to go?” Mildmay asked, and I recognized something in his voice that I hadn’t expected: fear. I blinked. 

“Well, I–”

“Are you kicking me out?” Mildmay interrupted, and he’d twisted toward me, his eyes suddenly wide. “Where’m I supposed to go?” 

“I’m not–” I shook myself. “That’s what the money would be for. So you could go anywhere you wanted.”

“And do what? Cardsharping? Can’t exactly go back to killing people for hire even if I wanted to,” Mildmay said, his voice full of urgency. 

I shook my head. “That isn’t - don’t worry about that. I would be happy to - support you.”

“Don’t want no charity,” Mildmay said.

“It’s not _charity,_ ” I protested. “It’s - like a salary. Repaying you for, for everything you’ve done for me.”

“I’m not _useless,_ ” Mildmay said, too loudly. “I know I’m fucked up, I know my head’s not on right but I can still help, just don’t–” He stopped, and swallowed, and said, “this is the only safe place I’ve got.”

“If safety is your concern, I’m sure that I can figure something out,” I said, fighting the urge to give in, to say _yes, all right, stay,_ as though that wasn’t what I wanted all along. 

“Kethe, Felix,” Mildmay said, “please don’t kick me out. Please.” 

I felt like he’d punched me in the stomach. I rocked back, utterly taken off guard, and stared at him. He looked pale and tense and like he was waiting for me to strike him. I pressed back further as though I had meant to and was trying to stop myself. 

“Mildmay,” I started, and then stopped. “I’m not...kicking you out.” 

Mildmay’s eyes flickered away from me and back. “You’re not.” 

“No,” I said. “ _No._ That wasn’t…that wasn’t my intention at all.” 

Mildmay stared at me for several very long moments, and then went limp. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Oh. Okay.”

“I thought…” I kept myself from biting my lip. “I thought you wanted to leave.”

His head came up fast. “No,” he said, right away, like he didn’t even have to think about it. I blinked in surprise, and he shook his head. “I don’t. I don’t wanna leave.”

It was my turn to say, rather blankly, “oh.” 

Mildmay’s jaw shifted. “Is that. Is that why you’ve been so…” He made a gesture I struggled to interpret. “Not talking to me?”

I didn’t answer, a new guilt starting in on my entrails, and Mildmay huffed out a breath. I wrestled with the knowledge that I should apologize and the difficulty of doing so. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” I said finally. “It just seemed likely that...after what happened…”

 _After I forced you to kill for me and got you captured and tortured and nearly killed._ I didn’t think I needed to say it. 

“Felix,” Mildmay said. He sounded tired. I pressed my hands over my eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to - whatever you want to do, that is of course...I am not going to make you do anything.” 

“Along as how you can’t?” Mildmay said. I dug my fingernails into my palms and resisted the urge to flee. 

“Ideally, because I won’t,” I said, my voice wobbling a moment before I steadied it. “Though not...not having the ability to force you will hopefully make a difference if I should fail.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t expect you to believe me. And I certainly don’t expect you to _trust_ me. But I…” I trailed off, not entirely certain where I was going. 

“I don’t hate you,” Mildmay said. 

“I didn’t say-”

“You were thinking, though,” Mildmay said. “I’m pissed. And okay, maybe some days I hate you a little.” I wanted to shrivel up and die. I forced myself to stand still and keep my mouth shut. “But you did come and rescue me, even if you almost got yourself killed for being stupid.” 

I couldn’t look at him. “You were only there in the first place because of me.” 

“You still came.” 

That didn’t seem like much to me. It certainly didn’t seem like something he should give me any credit for. “Really,” I said, “Mehitabel did most of the rescuing. If it weren’t for her…”

“You killed Strych,” Mildmay said.

That I supposed I could claim. “But–”

“Felix,” Mildmay said, “stop arguing.” 

I stopped. There was a lump in my throat the size of my fist, and my eyes stung.

“I thought you were dead,” I said, my voice on the edge of breaking. 

“Yeah,” Mildmay said after a moment. “I sort of thought so too.” 

I wanted to hug him. It was a foreign impulse, in some ways, and it felt almost as though I didn’t know how to do it. Couldn’t remember. I took a deep breath.

“How can I help,” I asked, and then changed the question. “What do you need?” 

Mildmay looked at me sideways. “You don’t gotta do nothing,” he said.

“I want to,” I said, twisting my hands together in my lap. I forced a smile. “You followed me across half the known world when I was mad. It seems the very least I could do is offer.” Mildmay stared at me blankly, and I tried not to show my hurt as I stood. “Well,” I said, as steadily as I could manage, “I should let you rest. If you think of something–”

“Stay,” Mildmay rasped, and I fell still.

“You want me to…”

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at me. “Just...that’s good. If you want.” 

I sank slowly back down, my chest aching a little. “Of course,” I said. “I’m happy to.” 

I had failed him this time. I would probably fail him again in the future. 

But at least this I could do.


End file.
